


Red Blue Red

by BoyFromJupiter



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, Ficlet, HanniHolidays Prompt Calendar, M/M, Murder, Murder Husbands, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Protective Will
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2016-12-27
Packaged: 2018-09-12 15:34:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,283
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9078874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoyFromJupiter/pseuds/BoyFromJupiter
Summary: A tiny ficlet to the Hanniholiday promt: Christmas LightsNot much more than a year ago it would've been so completely different. He would not have been standing here, maybe he would've been facing the other way even, looking down onto the shaking, bleeding man. Perpetrator instead of savior. But that time was long gone, a fleeting past that he had stripped off alongside so many identities and lives. So it was, that Will Graham was the only thing standing between Hannibal and a certain death. Will Graham armed with two knives and the will to defend the life he had chosen so long ago.





	

  
  
Not much more than a year ago it would've been so completely different. He would not have been standing here, maybe he would've been facing the other way even, looking down onto the shaking, bleeding man. Perpetrator instead of savior. But that time was long gone, a fleeting past that he had stripped off alongside so many identities and lives. So it was, that Will Graham was the only thing standing between Hannibal and a certain death. Will Graham armed with two knives and the will to defend the life he had chosen so long ago.  
  
  
His eyes were bright in the dark. He was smiling, but it was not a friendly expression - it was rather reminiscent of a wolf baring its teeth as a warning. His stance clearly gave away that he was more than ready for a fight, ready to give hell to anyone who dared to approach him and the man he was shielding. Both his hands were raised in a experienced pose and the front of his dark army green jacket was splattered with blood, just as the blade of his bigger knife shimmered black in the dim light, already baptized. It was an elegant thing, the blade black river wash colored, 7 inch long and made for deep positive piercing penetration. The beautiful leather-bound handle fit perfectly into his palm, all in all on the heavier side but not obstructive. Hannibal had given it to him for his birthday last year - Will had just used it to slice the neck of one of the men from ear to ear, cutting thyroid cartilage, sternohyoid muscle and scraping a long, thin line all over the hyoid bone. The lifeless head tilted back in the weirdest angle, the man had gushed away out of life within seconds, spilling into the snow like red wine on a lush, white carpet. The second knife Will was holding on to was sleek and thin, barely more than a silver line in the freezing air, but sharp as hell, made to gut and debone fish.  
  
Two strangers remained in front of him, now cautious after this display of lethal force and seemingly puzzled by  his presence. Clearly they hadn't thought that Hannibal Lecter would have a companion, let alone someone who was just as vicious as him. One of the men, holding onto a taser, was also clutching the side of his head - Hannibal had clearly made use of his teeth while defending himself.  
  
Standing like that, time seemed to run dry between them. They were illuminated from behind, the Christmas lights blinking red, blue, red in their backs, carving their silhouettes out of thin air, as if they were only made by shadows.  
  
  
Will could not turn to look, but he felt Hannibal's presence in his back like a warm coat, the heaving flank of a wounded beast, huffing aching breaths into the winter night. He knew that he was wounded, he had seen the blood when he had leapt over his shaking form on the ground to slaughter the first attacker, had seen him going down from further out where he had been preparing his catch to hang into the smoker he had built in their spacious backyard. Now anger was boiling in his guts, a bubbling, seeping sensation filling his whole body with heat even though it was so terribly cold out here. The breath from his lips was steam from the engine running hot inside of him. How dare they coming into their haven, into the place they had made for each other in months of tedious work…  
  
  
Red, blue, red. One of the men, uninjured and holding a gun, spoke. His voice was covered in a heavy accent, Slavic.  
  
"And who the hell are you?"  
  
Red, blue, red. Will lowered his head a little, shadows casting strange patterns onto his face, his eyes stuck somewhere between the men for a while before he eventually met the gaze of the one who had addressed him.  
  
_"I'm the husband."_ , he answered.  
  
Red, blue, red. With a flick of his arm, the threw the smaller knife. Like a silver arrow, it cut through the air and buried itself deep in the left eye of the man with the gun. Screaming, he clutched his face and fired blindly into the void. Two shots pierced through the silent winter night, making Will's ears ring, but it didn't matter. He had already jumped at the second guy, teeth bared like a raging animal and his eyes wild with righteous anger, he stabbed the stranger, pushing the blade deep into his soft body, with deadly precision right between two ribs, piercing jacket, lung and heart in the process. Pulling out, spilling blood, in again, further to the left, lower, perforating the kidney. Then he shoved him to the ground, leaving him to drown in the blood that was filling his lungs. The last man was down on his knees, sobbing and shaking, trying to crawl away, his hand aimlessly clutching at the snow, the other helplessly grabbing at his own mutilated face, where the handle of the gutting knife stuck from his eye socket like a strange plant. Will watched for a moment, slowly licking at his lower lip, not blinking a single time, while taking in the scene. Then he crossed the distance with two big steps, grabbed the last man by his hair and pulled back his head with a brutal yank. He could've said something, asked them who had sent them and why they were here. But in the end it didn't matter, did it? He'd kill everyone who'd come here for them, who was stupid enough to set foot into their home. Every single one of them would bleed out on these grounds. Will pulled a little stronger, the man babbled hysterically and then he followed the fate of his first companion, his throat opening up under the icy kiss of Will's hunting knife, waterfalls of blood raining down onto the snow, then the body collapsing onto it, blooming dark roses into the white grounds. Words turned to garbled mess, gurgling wet. Will stared at the display, then he straightened himself and slowly wiped the knife on his sleeve before he turned to look at Hannibal.  
  
   
Their eyes met over the dark snow. Red, blue, red. Hannibal spat blood and then pushed himself up onto his side, sitting weakly, still twitching under the aftermath of 1,200 volts traveling his body. Blood dripped from his nose and a split lip. Still, he smiled. Pride illuminated his gaze and he reached for Will, his hand shaking in empty air. Will was by his side immediately, falling to his knees, clutching the cold fingers with his own, smearing blood on Hannibal's skin. The air between them was filled with intensity, copper lingering in it like the taste of coins under the tongue. Will grinned, sincerely now, wicked and joyful.  
  
Red, blue, red. Hannibal drew in breath, shaking lightly.  
  
"We'll…have to… go and get the bags, and…"  
  
"I'm not going to leave this place after spending hours putting up those godforsaken lights, Hannibal. No one will go _anywhere_."  
  
That was all they said. Hannibal kept smiling, even as Will pulled him up from the ground with a low grunt, lifting him up onto his arms to carry him back to the house, his legs buckling under the weight.  
  
The Christmas lights kept blinking, shining their red, blue, red light out onto three lifeless bodies. Sometime later, Will Graham returned with a shovel and an axe and he was watched by pair of dark eyes from the couch, through the tall windows of the living room.


End file.
